"You're the reason he's dead," I say. I'm surprised by how quickly the anger comes on. My body quakes with it, my face hot.
"Did you get hit in the head during your exam, Stiff?" Eric says, smirking. "You're not making any sense."
I shove him back, hard, against the door. Then I hold him there with one arm--I'm surprised, for a moment, how much stronger I am--and lean in close to his face. "I know it was you," I say, searching his black eyes for something, anything. I see nothing, just dead-fish eyes, impenetrable. "You're the reason he's dead, and you won't get away with it."
I let him go and walk down the hallway toward the cafeteria.
The dining hall is packed with people dressed in their Dauntless best--all piercings exaggerated by flashier rings, all tattoos on display, even if it means going without clothing. I try to keep my eyes on people's faces as I navigate through the crush of bodies. The scents of cake and cooked meat and bread and spices are on the air, making my mouth water--I forgot to eat lunch.
When I reach my usual table, I steal a roll from Zeke's plate when he's not looking and stand with the others to wait for our results. I hope they won't make us wait too long. I feel like I'm holding a live wire, my hands twitching and my thoughts frantic, scattered. Zeke and Shauna try to talk to me, but none of us can shout loud enough over the noise for them to hear me, so we resign ourselves to waiting without speaking.
Max gets on one of the tables and holds up his hands for quiet. He mostly gets it, though even he can't completely silence the Dauntless, some of whom go on talking and joking like nothing ever happened. Still, I can hear him as he gives his speech.
"A few weeks ago, a group of scrawny, scared initiates gave their blood to the coals and made the big jump into Dauntless," Max says. "To be honest, I didn't think any of them would make it through the first day"--he pauses to allow for laughter, and it comes, even though it wasn't a very good joke--"but I'm pleased to announce that this year, all of our initiates attained the required scores necessary to become Dauntless!"
Everyone cheers. Despite the assurance that they won't be cut, Zeke and Shauna exchange nervous looks--the order in which we are ranked still determines what kind of job we can choose in Dauntless. Zeke puts his arm across Shauna's shoulders and squeezes.
I feel suddenly alone again.
"No more delays," Max says. "I know our initiates are jumping out of their skin. So, here are our twelve new Dauntless members!"
The initiates' names appear on a large screen behind him, large enough even for people at the back of the room to see. I search the list automatically for their names:
6. Zeke
7. Ash
8. Shauna
Instantly, some of my tension disappears. I follow the list up, and panic stabs me for just a second when I can't find my own name. But then, there it is, right at the top.
1. Four
2. Eric
Shauna lets out a yell, and she and Zeke crush me into a sloppy hug, their weight almost knocking me to the ground. I laugh and bring my arms up to return the gesture.
Somewhere in the chaos, I dropped my dinner roll--I crush it under my heel and smile as people surround me, people I don't even know, slapping my shoulders and grinning and saying my name. My name, which is only "Four" now, all suspicions about my origin and my identity forgotten now that I am one of them, now that I am Dauntless.
I am not Tobias Eaton, not anymore, never again. I am Dauntless.
That night, dizzy with excitement and so full of food I can hardly walk, I slip away from the celebration and climb the paths to the top of the Pit, to the lobby of the Pire. I walk out of the doors and suck in a deep breath of the night air, which is cool and refreshing, unlike the hot, close air in the cafeteria.
I walk toward the train tracks, too full of manic energy to stay still. There is a train coming, the light fixed to its front car blinking as it comes toward me. It charges past with power and energy, loud as thunder in my ears. I lean closer to it, for the first time savoring the thrill of fear in my stomach, to be so close to such a dangerous thing.
Then I see something dark and human-like standing in one of the last cars. A tall, lean female figure, leaning out of the car, holding on to one of the handles. For just a second as the blur of the train passes me, I see dark, curly hair and a hooked nose.
She looks almost like my mother.
And then she's gone, gone with the train.
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